


Amnesiac

by LittleBlueArtist



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: M/M, beginning, have fun, i wrote this all tonight lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-22
Updated: 2016-07-22
Packaged: 2018-07-26 00:53:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7553890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleBlueArtist/pseuds/LittleBlueArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sorey falls and hits his head. When he wakes up, everything is fuzzy, and he has a feeling he's missing something that's always at his side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amnesiac

**Author's Note:**

> Hell will freeze over the day I can't bang out a 10 page paper in two hours but can write a 3k fanfiction in under 5. (As always you can find me at [noyaplease](http://noyaplease.tumblr.com) on tumblr!)

It’s dark, it’s late, the only light coming from a pub. Sorey is walking with Mikleo when it happens, gathering firewood. The bundles of sticks in his arms falls before he does. He vaguely hears them fall, and thinks the giant crack is from one of them breaking. It certainly can’t be his own body, can it? No… No, it can’t be. There’s something warm pumping from his forehead onto his face, getting into his eyes. It’s thick, hot, rusty smelling. Sorey wrinkles his nose. It’s then, just a twitch of muscles, that the pain sets in. He can hear someone yelling, screaming, shouting, but the white noise shrouds his head. He can’t see, can’t hear, it’s too much too much _too much._

Sorey succumbs, closes his eyes, and drifts into darkness.

***

He comes back to fingers waving in his face, blonde hair bouncing in a ponytail. “How many fingers am I holding up?” the girl asks, waving them frantically.

Sorey groans and sits up, his head pounding. He’s pretty sure someone is building a house in there. Half of his face feels sticky and his tongue is heavy in his mouth. Sand comes falling out when he opens it, dust coming out of his lungs. “I can’t see anything if you keep waving,” he says, coughing on the last word. It makes him groan again.

The girl stops, her face dropping the wildly concerned look. “Do you know my name?”

“Of course I know your name. It’s... “ He stops, thinks. He knows this girl, doesn’t he? Her big eyes seem familiar, the way she speaks bouncing around in his brain. He knows her, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t remember a thing about her, just a gut feeling that rolls low in his belly. He can’t remember. Does he remember his own name?

He thinks about that, too, but comes up empty. Everything seems so fuzzy, a mist clouding every memory he might have. It hurts if he tries to remember, unbearably so. “Who are you?” he whispers, putting a hand to his head as he stands. The world spins, greens and purples and blues mixing together. His stomach lurches, and everything he’s ever eaten comes up, lands in a disgusting pile at his feet. The smell makes him want to retch again, but suddenly there’s a hand there, steadying him. It helps him move even though his head's still spinning and he wants to pass out again.

The hands lead him, slowly, to a resting place. There’s a small fire that’s dying in the middle, and he remembers what he dropped. He must have been gathering for this one. There are two tents set up around the fire, both makeshift. A set of clothes lies on the rock, and judging by the size, they’re his. The girl sits him down on a rock and grabs a cloth, dipping it into a bucket and bringing it to his head. Sorey hisses and almost jerks, before remembering that would be the worst thing he could possibly do.

“I have to see how bad it really is,” she says, gently cleaning his face. Her fingers are careful. The water turns murkier with each dip. “My name is Alisha, by the way,” she smiles, green eyes scrunching as she does so.

“How do we know each other? Do you know my name?”

Alisha puts the cloth down. It’s covered in dirt and blood, but his face feels clean. She reaches into a bag as she answers, “We travel together. We should really get you to a doctor, but there isn’t one for miles…” The worried look comes back as she takes a wrap from the bag and starts to unravel it, lifting Sorey’s hair out of the way so she can start bandaging. It makes it around his head three times before running out, and she ties a tight knot in the back to keep it in place.

Sorey touches it experimentally and hisses when he hits his still fresh cuts. The wrap should last for a few hours at least. “Alisha,” he murmurs, letting the name roll off his lips. He remembers it. It feels familiar on his tongue, but he can’t remember any time he’d ever used it. He rams around his brain, trying to force a memory out, claw one from the depths of his head. He only finds one thing, in a voice that’s definitely not his. It startles him. It’s almost a shout, but not. He can barely hear it.

_Sorey!_

“Sorey,” he says, pushing his hair back, looking into the embers of the fire. “That’s my name, isn’t it?”

Alisha looks up from the meal she’s slowly cooking and smiles again. Her eyes, bright and big, flicker for just a second, replaced with another face. He can’t make out the features, can barely believe it happened in the first place. He shakes his head lightly. “Yeah! Do you remember anything else?” she asks, stirring whatever is in the pot.

“No…”

The fire crackles, embers creating a small batch of smoke. For just a second, before it clears, Sorey thinks he sees someone standing in it. Someone he should know but doesn’t, can’t even remember. Alisha hands him a bowl and Sorey turns to her, asking her things about his life, absently eating the stew.

***

Mikleo is screaming. His throat is scratchy and his lungs burn. He had watched Sorey fall, too slow to stop it, too shocked at the blood to do anything but stare. He couldn’t wake him, couldn’t stop the blood because his hands were shaking so hard. Sorey was _hurt_ and he stood there like the world was collapsing around him. He was lucky Alisha came.

Now, though, lucky isn’t a word he’d ever use again. “You promised!” Mikleo screams, hating the crack in his own voice. _He is strong on his own._ “You promised you would never forget me! You promised me, Sorey!”

The brunet turns his head, ear twitching, but goes back to looking at Alisha like nothing happened. Mikleo resists the urge to stomp his foot. Instead, he sighs, crosses his arms, and sits. He’ll never leave Sorey, he knows, but he can’t stay and hope for something that might never happen. He decides to stay three days. The decision settles heavily on his chest. There’s anvils pressing down on him.

Mikleo thinks he might as well be disappearing from how _empty_ he feels.

***

_There’s a boy. He can’t make out the other man’s face, or any features, but a feeling rushes over him. He can’t place it. It feels almost like home and the ocean at the same time. The waves crash hungrily over the sand, determined to drag everything on the surface into its watery depths. It swirls around Sorey’s ankles, catching him and not letting him go. The boy stands in the middle of a wave, face and body distorted. Sorey has the urge to reach for him, grip his arm just to make sure he’s real. He never wants to say goodbye._

_The boy leans forward, fingers outstretched, coming out of the wave. Sorey wants to latch on with every ounce of muscle he has. He wills his hand to stay at his side. Who is this boy? Does he know?_

_The water crashes around him, climbing up to his neck, spilling into his mouth and nose. He never wants it to leave._

The brown-haired boy wakes up with a gasp, hands scrabbling at his throat. His abrupt change from lying down to sitting up makes his head spin and he fights to keep from throwing up again. Sorey spends a minute just quietly breathing. His head feels better than yesterday, clearer somehow. His movements aren’t as sluggish. He can remember Alisha more, and someone else. He can’t really remember who yet, but his heart speeds up just at the thought of it. A girl?

No, that doesn’t feel right. Alisha doesn’t make his cheeks flush or his heart pound in his chest. He shrugs off the feeling for the moment and slowly crawls out of his tent, being met with the sun shining in his face. He squints. For a second, in his slightly blurred vision, he sees someone. _Blue_.

It’s gone in a blink. He makes his way over to Alisha, who’s gathering supplies from her bag. Feeling his way onto the log instead of standing up, Sorey slowly sits, his head still pounding a bit. She smiles and soundlessly redresses his bandage, putting the old one in a plastic bag. The fire from the night before has died out completely, not even any embers left behind. Some dirt has been kicked in it to ensure it won’t catch again.

“How’re you feeling?” Alisha asks, pulling out dried meat. She seems to have everything in her bag.

“Better, thanks,” Sorey replies, taking the food from her. It tastes like heaven on his tongue. He doesn’t remember ever being this hungry. Not that he really remembers much about being hungry at all. “Alisha,” he says, swallowing a mouthful, “were we traveling with another person?”

The young girl raises an eyebrow. “Nope! It’s just us so far. Why, do you remember someone?”

“I’m not sure. Did I ever mention anyone to you? Like a past friend?”

“Not that I can think of. What do you remember about them?”

Sorey thinks for a minute. He remembers feeling like the water is home. He remembers a warmth in his chest. He remembers someone always being at his side. He finally settles on an answer. “Blue,” he says, staring into the dead fire. “I remember blue.”

***

Mikleo watches as Alisha helps Sorey walk. He stumbles, almost falls, but she is there to catch him. Mikleo knows humans’ brains can get hurt easily, that a little bump on the head can mean certain death. He doesn’t think about what a river of blood has done to Sorey. He seems better than the day before, though, and that gives the seraph some relief. He will get better. He will remember. He’ll be able to see again, Mikleo is sure of it.

For now, he watches Alisha pack up the camp, helping Sorey move on. They’re only going a few miles according to her. The next rest stop is a short distance. It takes a mile for Mikleo to come to a realization he doesn’t like. He hates it, wants to bury it six feet into the dirt, stomp on it until it’s no longer recognizable.

“Sorey,” he says in vain, hoping that his voice won’t fall to deaf ears. “You do _want_ to remember me, right?”

The other boy just keeps walking, occasionally stopping for a minute or two before going again. Alisha has her hand on his back, the other keeping his arm over her shoulder. Her small frame is deceptive for how sturdy she is. Sorey isn’t small by any means, and she’s keeping him up just fine, only a thin layer of sweat coating her forehead.

Mikleo sighs, looks towards the horizon, and keeps walking.

***

The next rest stop might as well be Heaven for all Sorey knows. He nearly collapses as soon as they get there, legs jelly and brain mushy. It pounds with each breath he takes. His chest heaves with heavy breaths, lungs soaking up all the air they can. Alisha makes quick work of changing his bandage again before starting to gather wood for a fire. He knows she’s tired, but he can only watch as she does everything. He’s useless.

The only thing she does for herself is stop and redo her ponytail, which had come loose during the day. Her neck is sweaty. It’s only a few minutes before the fire is going and the tents are set up, and he’s amazed at the speed she worked. “Thank you for everything today,” he says, still slightly breathless.

She only smiles, “No problem! You’re injured, Sorey. It’s your job to focus on getting better and resting. Until you can walk five minutes without retching, I’ll handle the duties and responsibilities of this team.” She pulls out a muffin and gives it to him as she assembles some pots and pans.

It’s slightly stale, but still good. Biting into it, Sorey is met with a memory being drudged from the trenches. An open oven, sweets coming out on trays, a hand he recognizes grabbing them and putting a new batch in. He remembers the smell of fresh baked cakes, taking a fingerful of frosting and getting whacked with a spoon for it. The person baking gives him the feeling of _home_. His mother? No, that’s not right. The name is on the tip of his tongue. He can taste it, feel it roll around his mouth.

Mik…

“Michael?” he mumbles to himself, staring at the blueberries in his muffin. Alisha turns to him, raises an eyebrow in question. He gives her a small wave to say _no, I’m not imagining people_ , and goes back to thinking. He tries to get back to his memory again, but it’s gone. It leaves him feeling _empty_.

***

That night, sitting in his tent, Sorey looks up at the sky. There’s little holes in the big leaves Alisha chose, and he can see the stars that litter the sky. He knows the Big Dipper, Orion, some others that he can point out. He can remember these but can’t remember the name of his pet, or if he even has one.  The pain has filtered out a bit, and with some food in his stomach, he can rest comfortably. He’s just about to drift off when another memory slams into his head. Sorey tries to chase it.

_“Hey, Sorey!” a little boy says. He has the most colorful eyes Sorey has ever seen._

_“What is it? Who are you?” the taller boy asks, surprised to see he himself is at current age._

_“You know who I am! Your bestest friend!”_

_“Best...friend?” The world swirls as Sorey remembers. He can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but home._

_Home, home, home, home home home home home homehomehomehomehome_ **_ho-_ **

“ _Mikleo!”_

The name rips itself out of Sorey’s throat, shred every vocal cord he has. His fingers tremble as he scrabbles to sit up. There, sitting next to him, is a boy with the most colorful eyes he has ever seen. He does what he couldn’t in his dream; he latches onto Mikleo with a vengeance, knuckles turning white with his grip.

The other boy widens his eyes, grabs both of Sorey’s wrists. “You...remember?” he asks tentatively. What if he’s only stuck in his own dream?

“Not everything,” Sorey whispers, edging closer to Mikleo, his breaths hitting the skinnier boy’s face. “But I remember _you._ I made a promise, didn’t I? I’ll never forget you, Mikleo. I’ll never forget my home.”

It’s then that they crash together, waves crashing into a shore. It’s too much teeth and too sloppy tongue and there’s drool sliding down someone’s face, lips covered in spit, it’s so utterly _desperate_ , but it’s perfect. It’s everything they need to make sure one another is there, real, will never forget, never did forget. It’s everything they are.

When they break apart both are breathing hard, pants being the only thing they can hear. Mikleo leans his forehead into Sorey’s, closing his eyes, just listening. “Thank you,” he whispers, lips still slightly wet. “For remembering me.”

Sorey wraps Mikleo in his arms, settles them onto the floor together, every inch of their bodies pressed into each other. “Thank you for not giving up on me,” he whispers back, shifting to be more comfortable.

They fall asleep with each other’s names on their lips, hands so tangled in each other it’ll take years for them to let go.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this for a couple friends so I hope you guys enjoyed! Tbh TOZ isn't a fandom I'm very active in (I've never even read a sormik fic lmao) so sorry if anything is ooc or something! I tried!! It's like five am so I'll go back and fix any mistakes, and as always kudos/comments are appreciated!) Update: Did you like this fic? Want more of your own? Well I have good news! I've opened commissions! Find the info post [here!](http://noyaplease.tumblr.com/post/149722884338/writing-commissions)


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